


gratia plena

by chillpills



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Crack, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillpills/pseuds/chillpills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I told you, Louis,” Harry says patiently. “There was no earthly father involved in this pregnancy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	gratia plena

**Author's Note:**

  * For [staygolden_elly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staygolden_elly/gifts).



> i'm really sorry this is the Harry-is-the-Virgin-Mary AU that nobody (except elly) wanted
> 
> A Russian translation of this fic is available here: <https://ficbook.net/readfic/5296043>

It starts, as Louis suspects these things often do, with a vision.

“Louis!” Harry shouts, bounding into the living room. “Louis, you’ll never believe what just happened to me!”

“Probably not,” Louis agrees, without looking up from his phone.

“I was just visited by an angel,” Harry says with a sigh, and he sinks down onto the couch.

That’s not Harry’s usual brand of weird, and it makes Louis looks up at him over his glasses. “An angel?”

“Yes,” Harry says. He’s beaming, his cheeks dimpled up and his face practically glowing. “He was very nice.” Harry stares into the middle distance for a second longer. Louis’ about to poke him to see if he’s still responsive when Harry perks up suddenly. “But he told me!” He turns to Louis and puts on his very serious face. “Louis,” he says. “You have to promise you’ll believe me and won’t judge me for this. Or be jealous of me.”

Louis’ sure the face he makes isn’t exactly supportive, but he nods, and Harry appreciates it.

“Well,” Harry says, and he pauses, for dramatic effect, Louis guesses. “I’m pregnant.”

All the dramatic pauses in the world wouldn’t have really prepared Louis for that. He blinks at Harry rapidly. “What?”

“It’s a miracle,” Harry says, smiling. His eyes are wet and shiny. “It’s an immaculate conception.”

Louis narrows his eyes and leans into Harry to peer at him closely. “Have you been smoking with Zayn?”

“No,” Harry says, indignant. “Well, yes. That’s not the point. I’ll have to give it up anyway. Did you hear what I said, Louis?”

“I did, darling, I’m just trying to figure out why you said it.”

Harry frowns at him. “I said it because it’s _true_ , Louis. I was just in there - in my room - and this angel, like, he just showed up - he appeared and he told me that, like, that I was blessed among men and that I was pregnant, which like, can’t happen because I’m a virgin, so it’s a miracle.”

Louis only waits a beat longer before he bursts into laughter. Harry huffs, offended, and leaves the room. Louis falls off the couch.

 

~

 

“It’s not that I doubt you’re pregnant, Harry,” Louis says a few weeks later. Harry has taken to rubbing his flat stomach when he thinks no one is looking. “I just - you know. Think you’d know who the other father is.”

“The other father is the Lord, Louis,” Harry says patiently. “I told you. It’s immaculate conception.”

Louis sighs. Harry had called his mum the day after he told Louis, and she had only said, “we’ve been praying for something like this!”

(Louis had called his own mum after that and demanded to know if she ever prayed for things like that. She sighed and said, “Louis, mostly I just pray you won’t end up accidentally killing yourself on that skateboard of yours,” which, okay. Fair enough.)

(Louis’ mum also asked if Harry’s baby is Louis’. Louis sighed and hung up on her.)

 

~

 

Harry is about four months along, showing a little bump which he shows off in tight shirts and low-slung jeans and _will not stop rubbing_ , when Niall first comes over for a visit. He’s been in Ireland, so he’s only heard about Harry’s pregnancy on the phone and through the monthly pictures of his belly Harry has uploaded to facebook, despite the fact that his belly looks exactly the same in the first three. Harry insists there is a difference. Louis indulges him.

“You look good, mate,” Niall says after he’s hugged Harry in the doorway. He pats Harry’s face good-naturedly. “You’re all glowing.”

Harry only smiles brighter at the compliment and nuzzles his face into Niall’s hand. Louis rolls his eyes.

Niall corners Louis in the kitchen, later, while Harry is scrolling through Pinterest. “It’s yours, right?”

Louis splutters. “Way to lead in, Niall,” he mutters. “Of course it’s not mine.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “Well,” he says, “then whose is it?”

“He won’t tell me,” Louis says. He’s chopping celery sticks for Harry’s tea. Harry is the strangest pregnant person ever and has cravings for the most healthy food imaginable. “He keeps saying it’s - you know - immaculate.”

“Oh, right,” says Niall seriously. He nods a few times, silent, and then says, “Well. Stranger things have happened!” and he leaves. He steals one of the celery sticks on his way out.

 

~

 

At six months, Louis breaks down and corners Harry. “Haz,” he says seriously. “We really should find out who the other father is.”

Harry looks up at Louis through his legs. He’s doing pregnant yoga in their living room. He sighs wearily. “I told you, Louis,” he says patiently. “There was no earthly father involved in this pregnancy.”

“See, you keep saying that,” Louis says, sitting down cross-legged next to Harry. Harry shifts his position to one that’s slightly less upside-down. “But you’ve forgotten that we live together, Harry, and I’ve seen you bring guys home. Fairly recently before this, even.” He looks at Harry expectantly.

“And?” Harry says. His face is half-hidden in his armpit.

Louis picks at a loose thread in his trackies. “And? So I know you’re not a virgin. So. Can’t be immaculate conception, can it.”

“Well,” Harry says, and doesn’t say anything else.

“Well?”

Harry sighs and flips over so he’s on his back. His belly makes a sweet little curve and his shirt is riding up a little. Louis can see his tattoos. He kind of wants to pet it.

He refrains.

“Well,” Harry says, and doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ve pulled a lot but I’ve not really - you know.”

Louis does not know. Harry stretches his arms above his head, pulling his shirt further up his belly. “You’ve not really what?”

Harry sighs - or just does one of his yoga breaths, Louis’ not sure which - and closes his eyes. “There’s no way I could be pregnant because I’m _technically_ kind of a virgin.”

It takes Louis a few seconds, but then – Oh.

Louis blinks a few times. “You mean you’ve never. Um.”

“Had it up the arse, yes.” Harry swings his arms down to his sides, smacking Louis’ knee on the way. He doesn’t seem to mind. “Even with a condom.”

This is...news to Louis. Not that he’d particularly thought a whole lot about Harry’s sex life, but, well, Harry’s kind of promiscuous. Surely by now he’d let someone have a piece of his little bum.

“Well,” Louis say eventually.

“Mmhmm.”

 

~

 

Things get a little weird after that. But it’s just all in Louis’ head, really. Harry is still on a quest to be Cutest Pregnant Person Ever, and Louis is just trying to keep up with him. He’s having difficulty wrapping his head around the idea that Harry somehow is, really, a Virgin Mary (Virgin Harry). He doesn’t think Harry has any reason to lie about it (with the kind of guys he pulls, there’s not really a reason to pretend to be a virgin, right?) but still. What was he saving it for? Was he saving it for this? _Is he just waiting for someone special?_

Louis’ never been very religious. He’s beginning to wonder if this is some kind of cosmic joke on him. He wouldn’t put it past the universe.

A lady approaches them in Tesco one day. Louis’ arguing with Zayn about the brand of frozen pizza they should get for their lads’ night and Harry has got his face buried in some veg, or something. She taps Harry lightly on the shoulder.

“Just wanted to say congratulations,” she says with a smile. “And you look beautiful.”

Harry absolutely beams, straightening up and rubbing his belly with the hand not holding his basket. He’s got on a big jumper that falls over his knuckles, but you can still clearly see his pregnant belly through it. “Thank you,” he says, sincerely. Louis looks up just in time to see Harry letting the woman feel his stomach and saying to her, “he’s my miracle baby.”

Louis tears Zayn’s pizza out of his hand and shoves it viciously in his own basket.

 

~

 

At seven months, Harry declares that he needs to go to birthing classes.

Now. Louis is not unfamiliar with the birthing process. His mother is a midwife, and while Louis hasn’t been present at all that many births, he’s picked up enough from the stories his mother’s told to know that it isn’t a pleasant process. He wants to be supportive and helpful to Harry, but at the same time… _birthing class_.

“Do I really need to come with you?” Louis asks, the morning of Harry’s class. “Can’t one of the other lads go? Or your sister? Your boss? The mailman?”

Harry hums and rubs his stomach. “You’re the closest to me. And we live together. You’ll be closest to the baby, so I’d like you to be there for the birth.”

Louis recoils a little bit instinctually. Obviously he and Harry live together, but he hadn’t really thought about what that would mean when the baby got here. Harry’s just been setting up a bassinet in his own room and calling his hipster friends to debate the merits of organic baby blankets but Louis hadn’t really - he hadn’t thought about the fact that there’d be, like, a real baby in his house in a few short months.

He takes a few minutes to process this.

“Well, Harold,” he finally says, “I guess you’re right.”

 

The birthing class is all kinds of awful. Harry still can’t keep the smile off his face, even though he’s surrounded by enormously pregnant women and one very nervous looking gay couple. They wave at Louis in what he thinks is supposed to be solidarity. He offers them a small smile back, and then sits next to Harry on his mat.

“First, we’re going to be learning proper breathing techniques,” the instructor says, and Harry lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

It’s fitting.

 

~

 

At nine months, Harry’s grandmother falls and breaks her hip.

“I have to go see her,” Harry tells Louis. He’s been on the phone with his mum and he’s been crying. “It’s really bad.”

“Are you sure that’s safe for you right now?” Louis asks. “It’s really close to your due date.” If anyone asks, he’s definitely not cutting out little paper people chains for the baby’s room. That’s. Ridiculous.

Harry only sniffles and nods. Louis is helpless.

 

They agree to head up north the next morning. Louis will drive, and Harry will sit back and listen to relaxing music and practice his breathing. And tell Louis when to stop for the toilet.

Louis’ nearly asleep, comfortable and cozy in his bed, when he hears a whispering noise. At first he thinks it’s just Harry talking to his bump, which he does  _a lot_ , but then it keeps getting louder and it sounds like it’s saying Louis’ name, and then there’s a bright light in his eyes, and Louis sits up with a start.

“Be not afraid,” says this glowy man standing in Louis’ room.

“Hi?” says Louis.

“My name is Gabriel, and I am a messenger from the Lord,” says the glowy man. Huh.

“Nice to meet you,” Louis says. “Can I help you?”

The glowy man-angel-thing seems taken aback. “Er,” he says. It says. Whatever. “I just wanted to tell you that you should not be afraid to take Harry as your husband.”

Louis frowns at him. “Excuse me?”

“What he tells you is true,” the angel says. It holds out its hands towards Louis. “He has truly conceived of the spirit, and you should not be afraid to take him as your husband after he has given birth.”

Louis rubs his eyes with one hand. “Look, mate,” he says tiredly, “I just live with him, yeah? I’m not really uh, planning on marrying him, or anything.”

“Oh,” says the angel.

“Yeah.”

“Well, then,” the angel says. “Um, good luck tomorrow, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Louis says.

The angel nods, once, and then it disappears. Louis falls back on his bed and falls asleep.

 

For all his frantic worrying, getting Harry actually in the car turns out to be quite a feat. He keeps remembering things he needs to bring with him, waddling up and down the steps of the flat over and over until Louis grabs his shoulders and makes him sit in the passenger seat while he goes and gets whatever Harry needs. By the time they’re on the road, it’s later than Louis had hoped, but at least they’ve missed some of the rush hour traffic.

 

“Do you know, Louis,” Harry says, when they’re out on the M1, in the middle of nowhere, “I’m not nervous about the baby.”

Louis looks over at him out of the corner of his eye. Harry is looking back at him steadily.

“I’m glad to hear that, Harry,” Louis says. He smiles at him. “I hear it can be rough.” He doesn’t say, _I’m nervous as hell, though_. Instead he says, “You’re very brave.”

Harry smiles, slowly and gently, like he wasn’t expecting it. Louis has to make himself focus on the road.

 

Because fate is 1) a bastard and 2) a complete wiseguy, all of the hotels in Holmes Chapel are fully booked.

Louis kicks the brick wall of the Holiday Inn Express they’d pulled up to. He’d meant to just give it a little kick, but then he’d overestimated, and he ends up hopping around on one foot while Harry leans against the car and munches on his baggie of carrot sticks.

“Well,” Louis says when he’s done hopping around and has regained a little of his dignity, “I guess we should go see your nan now.”

Harry nods so enthusiastically that his carrot stick flies out of his mouth.

 

When they’re back on the road, heading out of the middle of nowhere to try to find a place to stay, Harry keeps checking his phone. That’s normal behavior, but Harry isn’t reading anything or typing anything, just pulling it out every so often and glancing at it.

“You expecting something?” Louis asks casually.

“No, just timing my contractions.”

Louis narrowly avoids swerving the car into the next lane. “Your - Harry! Why didn’t you tell me?” _How did I not notice_ , he wants to ask. He bites his tongue.

“They’ve only just started coming closer together!” Harry says.

“We need to get you to hospital,” Louis announces, and changes to the outside lane.

“Ohhh,” Harry says, his head lolling on the window, “can’t you just pull over here?”

“You’re not giving birth on the side of the road, Harry,” Louis says. “What the hell – ”

“There’s some nice trees over there,” Harry says with a wave of his hand that’s interrupted by a wince. Bloody hell. “We could just go lie down in the grass…”

Louis isn’t normally one to speed, but he breaks about 10 speeding laws getting Harry to the nearest hospital.

“He needs to be out in nature!” Harry insists as a nurse helps him into a wheelchair at the hospital. “He needs to be one with his Heavenly Father!”

The nurse nods good-naturedly and wheels Harry down the hall.

 

Harry’s baby is born at 1am in a tiny hospital somewhere outside Manchester. Louis was there for the whole thing. It wasn’t exactly traumatic (for him) but it’s not exactly something he’d like to experience again. Lots of yelling. And blood. Way too much of that. For a miracle baby he sure took a lot of work to come out.

(There may also have been a moment where Harry huffed in between pushes and said, “You know, I’ve always been in love with you,” and when Louis had got the feeling in his face back, he’d said, “Yeah, I think I have been too,” and that was that.)

But still, sitting next to Harry and watching him hold his new baby boy is pretty rewarding. Especially when Harry looks up at him with his face all pale and his curls all sweaty, and he smiles.

“You’re beautiful,” Louis whispers to Harry.

“I can’t wait to start baby yoga classes,” Harry whispers back, and, well. Louis can’t either.

 

~

 

It ends as fittingly as Louis thinks it ought to: with a vision.

Louis is trying to get a good night’s sleep - having a four month old baby in the house sure is a lot of work - when he hears whispering again, and then there’s a bright light, and, ah fuck.

“Hey, Gabe,” Louis says, sitting up and yawning.

“Be not afraid,” the angel says.

Louis stares at it.

“Right,” it says, “enough of that. Just wanted to tell you that there’s been a slight change in message.”

“Hit me.”

“When I said  _be not afraid to take Harry as your husband,_  that was supposed to be a hint for you to take Harry as your husband. But, ah, you don’t seem to be getting that.”

Louis blushes about a thousand degrees. “Oh, was it?”

“Yes. So if you don’t mind. Uh. It’s part of the cosmic plan, and all. I’m not really supposed to talk about it. So if you could just, you know.”

“The cosmic plan is for me and Harry to get it on?”

The angel glares at him. “ _I’m not supposed to talk about it_ ,” it hisses.

“We’re taking it slow,” Louis says.

The angel blinks a few times. “Oh,” it says. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

Louis nods.

“Okay then,” says the angel. “Carry on.” And it disappears with a flash.

Harry pokes his head out from under the duvet. “I didn’t even get to say hi,” he pouts.

“You can catch up next time you have a miracle baby,” Louis says.

Harry sighs happily.

**Author's Note:**

> A Russian translation of this fic is available here: <https://ficbook.net/readfic/5296043>


End file.
